For Better, or Worse
by KneazleFrizz
Summary: It was done intentionally to save her from herself. But what happens when she begins to remember small memories, and questions everything? SS/HG after Deathly Hallows, disregard Epilogue.
1. The Start: Live Moves On For Some of Us

_A/N: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K.R. and affiliates._

_A/N 2: This will in all likelihood be a very long story, and will start off slowly. Be patient, please :)_

For Better, or Worse

"Hmm.."

A woman with bright auburn hair turned slowly towards the full-length mirror standing before her, her left hand grasping her neck and the other playing lightly with the skirt of her cream and rose gown in contemplation. She bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. The dress itself was slim, showing her small frame well with its translucent shimmer, but still free-flowing. If the woman were to stand against the direction of the sun, any onlookers would be charmed by the sight of her underskirt and corset, an intentional and flirtatious request of the playful young bride. Around her narrow waist was a pale pink sash that matched her flower arrangements and bridesmaid dresses. The sleeves of the gown were slightly capped, with ruffles that blew gently whenever a slight breeze would pass. Her hair was pulled up, with only a few red curls to frame her face. The reason for this rather understated approach to what could have been a very show-stopping effect, what with the gift of color the woman had been blessed with for tresses, was because of the even more translucent cape that she wore over her ensemble. The hood of the cape gently rested against her head, the edges billowing and overlapping on her shoulders. From there the fabric ran down at a "V". It all had a very graceful, feminine, and fairy-like effect.

"Hmm.." muttered the woman again, her teeth worrying her lip a little more, "You don't think it's…too…"

"I love it, Gin. Harry'll love it as well, I suspect. And not just how glamorous you look in it, but the thought you put in it."

"You mean the thought _you _put in it, Hermione! I never would have thought to combine the designs on my own! Muggle and Wizard…bloody brilliant. "

"Yes well…you actually designed the gown. And it's beautiful, as is the woman wearing it. And not to mention my dress, Gin, this is actually something I might wear again." The bride's confidant rose from her seat on the settee and stood next to her in the mirror. Immediately the bride's critical eye focused in on her companion's outfit.

"Yes, I do rather like it. It has a sort of Jane Austen essence to it, eh?"

"Nice Muggle reference, Gin. Somebody was paying attention in Muggle Studies."

Truth be told, the bride was right. The dress she had designed for her maid of honor looked as if it was taken right from the pages of a Victorian romance. The soft pink affair had sleeves that were bubble capped, and a neckline that was a modest U-shape. A soft white satin sash cinched the waist, and an all lace skirt flowed straight to the ground. Her companion's hair was pulled up, as was hers, with three of her natural honey curls serving as soft bangs. A white headband with a small pink daisy in the center topped off the outfit.

"Yes, well, I didn't start planning this wedding yesterday, 'Mione. Or the marriage. I wanted to learn all I could about Muggle culture, you know, to impress Harry. Well, what I hadn't learned from Dad of course."

Her companion snorted with laughter and said, "Yes, because your Dad's the best source for accurate information. Didn't he once ask Harry the function of a rubber duck?"

The bride laughed, throwing her head back so far her hood fell off. Her companion quickly replaced it and made the necessary adjustments.

The women heard the door to the bedroom being tapped hesitantly.

"Come in, we're decent." said the bride.

A spectacularly beautiful woman entered the room, her hair done in the same fashion as the brown haired maid of honor, but executed to absolute perfection. The dress framed her perfect body perfectly, too. She was, in essence, perfection.

The original occupants of the room sighed hopelessly.

"More zhan deescent, I should zay! You two look absolutely zetunning!" exclaimed the woman in a heavy French accent, though she had made an effort to correct some of her less-than-precise pronounciations.

The bride consented, "Thank you; you look divine as always, Fleur. Not a hair out of place." Another sigh.

They watched as she raised a dainty hand to her blonde locks to not-so-subtly agree.

"Ahem.."

All three women turned to the door to see a fidgety man standing there in green dress robes and a smart looking wizard's hat atop his head.

"You seem to have forgotten me, Fleur, dear."

The blonde ran to the man and exclaimed, "Oooh Monsieur Weasley, I am zo zorry! Ginee, I 'ave brought your vather with me, he es ready to valk you down!"

All occupants of the room turned to face the bride. She looked once more into the mirror and seemed to gather her courage. They all watched as she mustered up her Gryffindor bravery and walked over to her father. He took his arm in hers and whispered something softly to her. They saw her beam radiantly from ear to ear and make her way, with her proud father shuffling next to her, down the hallway of her childhood home to what surely would be a very anxious and excited young hero to receive her.

The brown haired witch sighed wistfully, flicked a buzzing fly off her skirt, blew her curls out of her face, and proceeded down the corridor procession.

* * *

><p>Hermione read the names on the little engraved cards propped up on the head table as she walked by it to her seat. The arrangements were done in boygirl fashion, a Muggle tradition Mrs. Weasley and Ginny thought considerately to uphold.

_Mr. Neville Longbottom, Order of Merlin, First Class_

_Mrs. Fleur Delacour-Weasley_

_Mr. Ronald Weasley, Order of Merlin, First Class_

Here Hermione smiled to herself. The modest couple opted not to add their significantly extensive decorations to their place cards. _Bride and Groom_, would do nicely, thank you.

Hermione then found her own name, to Harry's left. She sat in her seat, the first one at the head table. She didn't do small talk, and chose not to engage in any, like the other members of the wedding party. Soon the others found their seats and Hermione found herself sitting next to George, who was on her left.

"Hello Hermione, love. How have you been?" asked George with a grin.

Hermione could not help but smile back. His cheerfulness was so infectious, despite the loss of his twin. She figured all of the Weasleys needed a happy occasion such as this.

"Oh fine, George. Just fine."

He looked at her, one edge of his mouth curling up in suspicion, "Did Gin's hen party get you as bad as Harry's stag did me?"

Hermione laughed loudly, but shook her head, "No, I actually only stayed long enough to see them to the first of apparently many pubs. I guess I was the only grown up who had to work the next day."

"Oh, 'Mione, you take your job too seriously." Upon seeing a hot flash take her cheeks, George quickly amended, "I mean, I fully understand the grave importance the head of the Department of Magical Creatures, but you do need to give yourself some time off, Hermione. Really. My job is a joke, literally, and look how good I'm doing!"

Hermione stubbornly corrected her easy-going friend, "It's the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, George. And it's under some serious reformation, if I'll have anything to say about it. I just can't afford to take time off right now."

George put his hands in a motion of surrender, and muttered something that sounded like, "Yes, M'am." under his breath.

Hermione sighed and turned to the tomato basil soup that had just arrived in front of her. She knew her friends were concerned for her. And it broke her heart to see Ginny's crestfallen face when she said she had to leave the bachelorette party early, before "any of the fun's even gotten started!". She felt doubly bad knowing Ginny would have to spend the night with only Luna as a barrier between her and "Phlegm", who she had begun to tolerate since the conclusion of the war, but still was not _exactly _chummy with yet.

After the courses had been each delivered and devoured in turn, Harry and Ginny stood up to make a speech,

"Ginny and I would like to thank all of you for coming today. We love all of you, and the support you have given us throughout the years as a couple or as individuals has been extraordinary." Here he turned to his bride and continued, "We are looking forward to spending a very normal and long life together. Thank you." He finished, pointedly not mentioning the war but for the subtle "normal" comment. Hermione smiled. That was, after all, what Harry wanted more than anything.

There was a loud noise as the clanging of champagne classes with forks began, the crowd demanding a kiss. Harry and Ginny conceded without hesitation. Harry then pulled Ginny gently by the hand to the dance floor, which was magically elevated off the grass of the garden to hover in the air like a floating stage. There were stairs that the couple took that reached the ground.

Soft music began, enchanting the scene as the bride and groom began to sway, not caring about formal moves whatsoever. Harry's hands lay delicately on the small of Ginny's back, and Ginny's hands were overlapping around Harry's neck. The Dark Lord could have crashed the party and the couple would still be dancing, so enthralled were they with each other.

_I wonder if I'll ever have this with anyone?_ Hermione thought, a faint edge of regret tinging the thought.

Just then Hermione felt light-headed, and a cloudy image swam swiftly, unanticipated, through her mind's eye. It was of a similar scene.

_A man. A woman. Dancing softly to music. But..different. Not Harry and Ginny. The man was taller, darker. The woman was more curvy, less graceful in a way. And the couple was not in a makeshift ballroom in the back garden of a home. They were in a small room with a shabby woolen carpet, and the music was coming from an ancient record player, not a string quartet with smart black dress robes. And rather than the charming light of fireflies accenting the night air, a nearly melted down candle could be seen flickering desperately on a small wooden side table._

The last thing Hermione saw before the image went black and she felt a falling sensation was sight of a frizzy brown head leaning contentedly against her partner's chest.

* * *

><p>RR!

**Links to dresses (disregard colors) in profile.**


	2. Goodbyes and Late Nights

_A/N: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K.R. and affiliates._

* * *

><p>"Think she had one too many, eh?"<p>

"Surely not, I know for a fact Miss Granger does not indulge."

"Maybee it vas the 'eet zhat did it. It es awfulee varm out 'ere."

"She was fine a minute ago!"

"Move aside, all of you! Miss Granger? Hermione, dear? Can you hear me?"

A moment passed.

"Uhhhhhh." Came the reply.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard from the peanut gallery.

Hermione felt her eyelids flutter a few times, then consent to being opened. The first face she saw she had to strain to recognize.

"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, weakly.

She saw the old Hogwarts matron nod swiftly. As she continued her interrogation to test Hermione's faculties, like where and who she was, Hermione studied her school nurse with fascination. She had obviously forgone her maroon and white healer's uniform for such an occasion. It was…odd to see teachers out of school when one had the point of view of a working adult. It made the whole institution seem less… put together.

Hermione was drawn out of her reverie when she heard the pulling up of Madam Pomfrey's string of words, forming questions Hermione supposed she was to answer.

"Hermione Jean Granger. Twenty-two years of age. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, should have been class of '98. The wedding of Harry and Ginny Potter." She recited obediently.

Madam Pomfrey continued to wave her wand around Hermione's cranium until she was satisfied, which Hermione found both annoying and grateful for. One could never be too certain about head injuries; her father had taught her that.

"What happened there, 'Mione?" asked Ron when the majority of the crowd disappeared from the not-so-interesting-anymore scene at the prompting of a very assertive Pomfrey. The only brave remainders were a concerned bride and groom and Ron himself.

"I don't know…I just remember seeing…black." Hermione half-lied, letting her friends misinterpret. She was much too embarrassed at what she thought she actually saw. Herself, dancing with some strange man.

_What a truly odd daydream to have..._Hermione thought curiously.

For the rest of the night, everyone acted gingerly towards Hermione, and no one requested she take shots with the best man (not that she would have anyway), so Ron got absolutely smashed all on his own, which was humorous to all witnesses.

When it was time for Ginny and Harry to take their leave, the couple did rounds of hugs and goodbyes with everyone (which took a surprisingly long time thanks to a teary-eyed Mrs. Weasley).When Harry got to Hermione he paused and looked her in the eyes.

"You sure you're okay, Hermione?"

"Yes, positive, Harry. I have no idea what came over me. Just a fainting spell, I suppose. You know me, probably too many hours locked away in my office."

She realized too late that this was probably the worst thing to say when trying to persuade a worried friend that you're doing fine and that there's no reason for concern.

"Hermione…"

"Harry, dear, just forget about it. Enjoy your holiday with the new Mrs.…please, for me?"

He smiled hesitantly as Ginny came over. He put his arm around her shoulders instinctively, his eyes still on Hermione.

"Promise to write to us while we're away."

"Harry, it's your honeymoon."

"I don't care, and neither does Ginny. Promise." Harry insisted.

"Fine. I promise." Hermione relented with a sigh.

Ginny and Hermione hugged one last time, and as Ginny gushed about how great everything went and how much Harry _had _loved the dress they designed, Hermione saw Harry say something to Ron in a low voice. Ron then looked over at her. Clearly, it was an instruction to "pop in" on their overworked and fragile friend.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

As Ginny and Harry got on his new Wildfire 2000 broomstick (a method of transportation insisted upon by the groom) they called their last farewells to teary and cheering friends and family. Before they were out of earshot Harry called down to her,

"If we don't get a letter from you in three days time, 'Mione, we're coming straight back!"

Hermione saw Ginny nod her agreement, and she smiled a little indulgent smile. It was nice to know you had people looking out for you, despite how annoying it really was sometimes.

* * *

><p>Hermione rubbed her eyes with exhaustion and yawned a not-so-feminine yawn. She had been cooped up in her office for seven hours straight. But she just <em>had <em>to find another historical event in which the participation of centaurs benefited wizardkind's efforts. She was writing a report for centaur suffrage, and it would certainly look good to support her case of their allegiance with historical references. The only problem was that centaurs were just so darn…neutral and unobtrusive, not to mention fiercely private creatures. It was a lucky find if they were even mentioned in any of the huge sources she was digging through.

Hermione yawned once more and peered over the page she was currently on. She had reread the last few sentences over and over again.

_Centaurs are wise and proud creatures, and throughout history have been shown to have had a special lunar connection which allows them a premonition-like ability unique to their kind. However, they are often of the opinion that because of their extraterrestrial intelligences, they are not obliged to reveal their predictions to wizards or to engage in any activities they feel would upset the balance of the set future. _

_Centaurs also-_

The room went black.

At first, Hermione thought she was experiencing another fainting spell. But then her eyes adjusted and she realized her candle had melted down to the base and put itself out.

Hermione agitatedly waved her hand over her candle and whispered, "_Emendo Ignis_". The candle immediately reformed itself to it's original waxy self, complete with a clean white wick, then a split second later a happily dancing flame ignited itself.

Hermione stared at the flame for a while, then shook her head with frustration. Perhaps she would contact Firenze for an interview instead. He was surely the most cooperative centaur she knew, and he would be a good source for quotes.

Hermione shut the book, which sent up little flecks of dust into the air. This time, Hermione's vision really did go black.

_A man was sitting on a large and inviting sofa in front of a crackling fire. Upon his lap sat a large tome. His long index finger was tracing his intake of words at a rapid pace. His face was…indistinguishable. All she could make out upon further inspection were a pair of reading classes perched on the end of his nose. Suddenly the same curvy girl/woman, who Hermione figured had to be her daydream self if the hair was anything to base it on, walked into the room and unabashedly plopped herself next to the man, practically sitting on top of him. He lazily threw a relaxed arm around her, letting his unused fingers to play with the fabric of her robes gently. They sat that way for what seemed like hours, comfortably reading and enjoying each other's company. _

That was how Hermione drew out of her "daydream" as she supposed she would need to begin identifying the visions as. This time the blackness did not draw Hermione fully in, like at the wedding. A part of Hermione did not like how the daydreams came without warning and took total control of her faculties, but another part actually enjoyed the dreams. They were so…comforting.

"I guess I do need to get out more. Even my subconscious is telling me to get a life. Or at least a man."

* * *

><p>RR!


	3. Dinner and a Nightmare

_A/N: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K.R. and affiliates._

* * *

><p><em>Dear Harry and <em>_Ginny,_

_Hello! Hope you two are enjoying Morocco! We miss you guys terribly, but take your time! All is well here. Ginny, your mum sends her love to you both. She heard Harry's threat about the letter and didn't want you to be bombarded with mail on your honeymoon, so she asked if I could squeeze that and some sweets in. I don't have a clue what's in the tin she sent over but it smells divine. _

_I'm holding up, of course. I told you not to worry. Besides, Harry, you're one to talk about fainting, if I recall third year's train ride correctly! Just kidding! _

_Work's going well. I've made some progress on my centaur report. If I can get some good hard evidence that the centaurs are and have been kind and peaceful with wizards in the past there is a real chance they could start to get some of the rights they deserve! Just think: first the centaurs, then the goblins, of course, then house elves, the list goes on and on! I know you all think I'm spending too much time at work, but with the opportunity to seriously better the relationship and dynamic between wizards and other magical beings, how could I give up now? I have a meeting at Hogwarts on Wednesday with Firenze to get some quotes for the report. It will be good to see him, and the school. Most of the professors I saw at the wedding, but it will be odd to see them in an empty castle, it being holiday and everything. Boy are we growing up!_

_Well, see you soon! And don't worry about me!_

_All my love, _

_Hermione_

Hermione looked down at the letter in front of her and bit the edge of her feather quill.

"That should sufficiently sedate them…and no need to tell them of the second vision. Just a little daydreaming is all…" Hermione muttered to herself. She had forgotten to write the letter, so busy she had been with work. Thus, she quickly melted her red wax stick and stamped the seal to close the envelope. After inscribing "_Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter"_ on the front cover of the letter Hermione handed the letter to her owl, Descendre, who promptly flew out her office window, anxious to stretch her wings.

Hermione stared out after her owl. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining radiantly onto the world below, beckoning the stir crazy out into its realm of warmth.

This time, Hermione could feel the vision/daydream coming on. It was as if a small part of her brain was welcoming back an old friend, rather than envisioning a new scene.

_The dark man waved his wand effortlessly over the leaf-covered ground, and a soft blanket appeared. Trees sprang up all around, shielding them from sight. The man lay down upon the material and beckoned for her to come down with him. She did so. Much like the last vision, the couple sat there in a comfortable silence, enjoying the scene of the forest around them. The sun peeped through at random cracks in the ceiling of branches. She closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth of the day._

_She spoke, softly, nervously, hesitant to break the silence, _

"_I know you don't want to hear this…but I do love you. It cannot be helped."_

When Hermione's sight returned to her, she was surprised to feel a tear falling down her cheek. She reached her hand up to brush it away and felt another following quickly after the first. Why was she so emotional over a daydream?

_I'm upset because I feel like I'm missing that _something_. Missing…that person in my life. I never knew I wanted a relationship that bad._

Upon reflection, though, Hermione realized it was true. She _did _want what Harry and Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had. Someone to wake up next to. Some to fall asleep with. Someone who would balance her out when she became too stressed. She had her friends…but…this was different. More tears flowed from Hermione's eyes. She conjured a handkerchief and blew her nose.

A knock at the door pulled her from her depressing musings.

"Yes?" She called, trying not to sound as though she had been crying. She failed miserably.

Mr. Weasley, speak of the devil, walked in with a stack of tins in his hand.

"Hope you haven't sent the letter yet Hermione, Molly went on a baking frenzy las-" as Mr. Weasley looked up and saw the tear streaks on Hermione's face his immediately levitated the pile of sweet tins to her desk without thinking.

"Hermione, dear, are you alright?" He asked, concerned. Ever since Hermione had been unable to relocate her parents from Australia three years ago when she attempted, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had stepped up even more as her surrogate parents.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Weasley, thank you. Just a tad stressed is all." She replied, sniffling.

She _hated_ that she must seem a complete wreck to people lately. She was normally so calm, cool, and collected. Ever since these visions started coming on, though, her emotions had been taking a hit.

"That's it, I'm taking you back to the Burrow with me. You look like you need one of Molly's famous home cooked meals. George and Bill and Fleur are coming over." He smiled from ear to ear with the innocence that only Arthur Weasley had, "And perhaps you may assist me in identifying the purpose of a new artifact! I've been told it's called a Calc You Later…"

Hermione sighed, looked down at all her paperwork, and consented with a grin, "You know what, Mr. Weasley, that actually sounds like a great idea."

* * *

><p>"…and then Mum finally realized it was little Charlie that had been stealing the sweets! Levitating them right off the tray, he was! Nearly died of shock, we've heard! "<p>

Hermione laughed warmly at the George's tale of the Weasley firstborn's original display of magic, which had apparently long been considered folklore and passed down even to siblings who were not yet born at the fact, so charming was the story.

Molly came bustling over and placed a third helping of potatoes on Hermione's abused plate and said, "Just don't ask about when I realized the twins began showing their magic."

Bill, who was sitting at the end of the table next to his wife, snorted into his glass of butter beer.

George leaned over conspiratorially towards Hermione and whispered, "I won't go into details, but it involves a blast ended skrewt, a wig, and a very pissed off Auntie Muriel"

Hermione covered her mouth and laughed heartily. She was so proud of George that he could remember the old days with Fred confidently now. She couldn't imagine losing someone she had been so close to…

When supper had been eaten with relish and a sleepy-eyed Bill and Fleur had said their goodbyes, Hermione joined Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and George for a night cap, though she requested some warm pumpkin juice with cinnamon in favor of the fire whisky proffered, in their small and cozy living room.

Hermione was nursing her juice and explaining that a calculator didn't require any potions to be able to do multiplications on its own when they heard a pecking at the small lattice window that had previously been showing the relaxed group a stunning view of the Ottery St. Catchpole night sky.

George got up and brought the brown and white barn owl onto his arm. He took the letter she was holding out in her beak and read the name.

"Here, Hermione. It's for you." George handed the letter to her.

"Oh, this is from Harry and Ginny." she said as she opened it and scanned its contents quickly, "They say they are having a splendid time. Weather is divine. Ginny forgot to pack a few things, and wonders if we could send them back with Descendre if it's not too much trouble."

Mrs. Weasley stood to get up, but Hermione stopped her, "I can get them, Mrs. Weasley. I think I remember where she put everything well enough.

Hermione got up and left the room, entered the corridor and took the many flights of stairs swiftly and two at a time. It was great to be back in a house she had wonderful memories of her youth in, even though she had been here days before at the wedding. The Weasleys were always so welcoming.

When Hermione got the room that she knew was Ginny's, she opened the door and looked around. All the posters of favorite quidditch stars and wizard bands were still adorning every inch of the wall space. She saw the settee and the full-length mirror, the two twin beds they had sat up late on during the summer, giggling. Ginny had a tendency to make Hermione feel like the flighty little school girl she never had the time to be.

The first thing Ginny requested was a polka-dotted two piece bath suit. Hermione grinned and walked over to the oak armoire that was a part of a set with the beds. Hermione squatted down and pulled open the second-to-last drawer. Inside was a crammed and untidy bunch of bathing suits and other various Summertime articles.

As she shoved the suits aside in search of the requested one, Hermione muttered, "Oh Gin, you have really got to clean this thing out."

Hermione was thinking of her own perfectly organized, neatly folded, and rather more sensible one-piece bathing suits at her apartment when her hand felt something rough and leathery. Curious, she pulled out a small journal. It was dark mahogany had a braided piece of leather holding it shut.

Not wanting to intrude on what clearly was some sort of hidden diary of Ginny's, Hermione was about to place the journal when she saw the engraved initials "HG" on the spine.

"What the…" Hermione asked herself aloud.

"Need any help, Hermione, dear? I know Ginny keeps her things in a right state, you must be having the worst time…" Hermione could hear Mrs. Weasley's voice getting closer and closer as she came down the narrow corridor.

Feeling guilty, but still intensely curious, Hermione shoved the journal into an inside pocket of her work robes and replied as Mrs. Weasley walked in, "Yes, I've only been able to locate her bathing suit." She pulled the slight pieces of fabric from the drawer upon seeing them from the corner of her eye and held them up.

When she and Mrs. Weasley had found all the items Ginny had asked for, Hermione said it was probably time she took her leave.

"I'll leave Descendre here for you to send Gin the package. See you tomorrow Mr. Weasley, and thank you guys both so much for having me tonight. Everything was wonderful, Mrs. Weasley."

"Anytime, dear, you know you're like family to us."

Hermione knew Mrs. Weasley genuinely meant it, and she felt guilty because she knew the matronly witch still had hopes that Hermione would get back together with Ron. At this point in her life, though, Hermione wondered how she could have ever seen the youngest male Weasley as anything more than a best friend.

"Yeah, 'Mione, you really are. Stop by the shop, sometime. I'll show you the best new prototypes." Said George as he gave her a big bear hug.

Hermione laughed, "I'm not so sure _that _idea would be in my best interest, but I'll make a plan of coming round anyway."

With instructions to take it easy and another hug from Mrs. Weasley, Hermione apparated to her small, but well-furnished, apartment. After having been in a home that held so much love in every pore, Hermione felt a sudden loss of life when she walked around her empty place. It didn't feel like a home. It was missing a core element.

That night, Hermione dreamt of the still unopened diary.

_A young woman wandered into a dark, moss-covered forest. She was lost. Suddenly she whipped around to see a herd of centaurs that were digging their hooves into the dirt, a sign of aggression. Hermione wondered why they were so upset when she looked down and saw the leather journal wrapped tightly in her arms. They knew she had stolen it, but rather than from Ginny's armoire Hermione sensed they thought the journal was stolen from them. _

"_I…I…swear I haven't opened it! I don't know what's…"_

_The enraged centaurs began chasing Hermione through the forest, into the never-ending maze of trees._

"Please! I didn't steal it from you!" Hermione could hear herself shouting as she awoke. She sat up quickly and put a hand to steady her racing heart. She looked over at the journal sitting on her side table and shuttered.

_Just a nightmare, Hermione. Relax. You've faced the Dark Lord and a nightmare about a herd of centaurs chasing you prompts this reaction? Honestly, girl._

She turned over to her bedroom window. The sky was black. Hermione fell back upon her pillow, knowing she had to work in the morning, and tried to compel sleep to come. It did not.

* * *

><p><em>RR Please!_


	4. Charms, Meetings, and Clearings

_A/N: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K.R. and affiliates._

* * *

><p>The next morning, a very determined Hermione Granger decided to open the journal, privacy be damned, just to settle her thoughts. She sat down at the secretary desk she had pushed against the South wall of her bedroom and looked once more at the binding.<p>

"HG," she read aloud, "Maybe it stands for something else. Like 'Hogwarts. Or History of Ginny. Maybe even Hot Gryffindor!" Hermione laughed softly to herself, but knew realistically none of those were accurate.

Hermione flipped the diary to face her and undid the leather binding with ease. As soon as she tried to open the book to its first page, however, she found it quite resistant. She pulled harder, to no avail.

Sensing the journal had been locked magically, Hermione took out her wand.

"_Revelare!"_ she said as she waved her wand over the book.

The diary pulsed, but no other indication of which locking spells had been employed came forth.

Hermione's brow furrowed, and she said, "_vidit dolo!"_, another revealing charm.

The journal pulsed more aggressively this time, but still revealed nothing. Hermione gained a new respect for Ginny's charmwork. The "_vidit dolo" _spell, or "Sighted Trickery" was a rare one Hermione had come across in one of the more obscure books back at Hogwarts.

Hermione decided to just try all of the unlocking spells she knew, and see if any did the trick.

"_Fecerunt!"_

"_Venite seorsum!"_

"_Aperite!"_

Even her trusty "_Alohomora!" _had no effect on the leather diary other than a pulsing vibration. Frustrated, Hermione shoved the diary in her work bag, in case she thought of any other spells, and began to get ready for the day.

* * *

><p>That Wednesday, Hermione apparated to Hogsmeade and began the long journey to the castle in the distance. She was very appreciative when Firenze had replied his consent to be interviewed for her report, though it had taken a few days after she sent it for him to reply. She figured he must be busy actually planning his divination syllabus (unlike his co-teacher of the subject) for the oncoming year.<p>

When she finally arrived at the huge and ornate double doors, Hermione pulled the right one open. She could feel it testing her magic, determining friend or foe.

Hermione looked around the entry hall. It was deserted. She decided to head right up to classroom eleven, Firenze's chosen meeting place.

Hermione was quite out of breath by the time she got there, even though it was on the first floor, and knocked on the classroom door without vigor.

Rather than the expected Firenze to greet here, a dizzy looking Sibyl Trelawney pulled open the door. Hermione wondered what she was doing in Firenze's classroom. Probably reminding him she thought his presence a nuisance.

"Oh yes, Miss Granger. I had a feeling you would be arriving…" Trelawney said vaguely.

Hermione scoffed disbelievingly, "Oh Firenze told you I would be coming, did he? How nice."

The batty professor's eyes narrowed, "I see deep confusion and sadness in your future…pain that you know not yet the boundaries of.""Splendid." was Hermione's short retort as she saw Firenze making his way quickly from behind Trelawney to greet her. Trelawney huffed and went past them.

"Hello then, Miss Granger. Shall we begin the interview?" He said in a rushed sounding voice.

"Hermione, please. Have I picked a bad time? I can come back whenever, the report is not due for some time. I enjoy jumping the gun sometimes in my work." She smiled.

"Yes…I have heard of your great skill and ethic from the teachers. Not a bad time, no, I just would like to conclude quickly as I have…lesson plans that need attending to." Firenze sounded erratic, nervous almost. This was not the wise and calm centaur she had heard of while attending the school.

He led her swiftly into his forest-decorated classroom, Number Eleven. Hermione had never been in this room, but she had heard it was enchanting. The ground of the room was moss-covered and trees sprang up from it, the branches covering the windows and the ceilings, tangling around each other. Leaves covered the windows, giving the whole room and Earthly and green glow.

He motioned for her to sit. She pulled out a quill and a pad of paper, with pre-written questions already covering two pages.

She looked up and saw Firenze looking towards the window, his hands shuffling.

"Professor, if I may be frank, you look…anxious about something. Really, if there's a better time…"

He whipped his head around and looked at her with an intense gaze. It looked as if he were studying her curiously.

She saw him take a deep breath and say, "Begin your interview, Miss- Hermione."

She forced a friendly smile and looked down at her list. She wondered what was causing this behavior.

Hermione started reading off her questions, jotting down his responses with a rapid pace. She was very pleased with the way things were shaping up, and had just one more question.

"How do you think centaur-wizard relations have developed since the fall of Voldemort?" She asked.

"Speaking for my herd alone…they are more pro-human than I have ever seen." He replied, this time a small smile creeping up onto his face.

"Excellent. Thank you, Professor." She reached out to shake his hand, and he took hers.

She was about to take her leave when she turned half around to look back at him. A thought had struck her.

"I do believe it is widely known…my personal opinion of divination, Professor. But I cannot be best friends with the 'chosen one' and not acknowledge its existence as a valid form of magic. Thus, I was wondering…are…visions…common? Among your average witch or wizard?" Hermione asked, then blushed. She had been so professional, and then she had to go an ruin it by asking about her silly little daydreams!

She watched as his relaxed face turned into the nervous one of the interview's start.

"Visions?" He asked a tad shakily. Hermione saw one of his hooves involuntarily scrape at the mossy floor.

"Well, maybe visions. More like daydreams, really. I don't know why I brought them up. I apologize. Thank you again for the interview, Professor." Hermione walked with haste out of the classroom. She was mortified.

_I _need _some fresh air!_

Hermione walked swiftly towards the forest. Her daydreams involving the infamous woods had surprisingly made her realize how much she actually missed being under the canopy of trees.

She slowed her pace as she neared the entrance, relishing the sight of the lush plants thriving on a late spring morning.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a lungful of the fresh air through her lungs, forgetting about the embarrassing conclusion to her interview, her daydreams, the mystery man in such daydreams, and work. She didn't realize her feet kept moving until opened her eyes and found herself in a clearing.

Amazingly, it looked exactly like the one in her vision. The leaves of many Autumn's before blanketed the soft Earth, ancient trees that had fallen long ago laid down upon their Mother Earth, like children to their mother's leg. Small tatters of sunshine crept through and beamed down on Hermione.

Perhaps she had been here as a child and her subconscious found it to be pleasant?

Then Hermione heard a noise that was decidedly foreign to the sounds of nature. She drew her wand and looked about her, but soon realized the noise coming from her bag.

She drew out the journal, which was vibrating as before, and held it in under one of the light beams to see it better.

Immediately, Hermione felt the book slacken in her hand as its wards went down.

* * *

><p>RR Please! It makes me so happy! :)


	5. The Coldest of Memories

_A/N: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K.R. and affiliates._

_A/N 2: I am trying to stick to as much of canon as I can, but you must disregard the horcrux hunting of Deathly Hallows from this point onward. Also, Hermione, Ron, and Harry did not witness the attack of Nagini upon Snape._

* * *

><p>It was cold. Morning, probably, but the sky outside sure as hell gave no inclination as to a rising sun.<p>

It really didn't matter, though.

For him, the bloody days ran together like one long night. He was in isolation; exile at his own will.

He deserved this, though. He never should have indulged in life. Period. He had had a job to do, and putting someone else in danger while still fulfilling his task was reckless.

And living through his task?

He scoffed to himself, and saw his breath in the air.

_Apparently the ability to take breath was his gift after all those years. Take anything else for yourself? _

_Surely not._

The tall man got stiffly out of his bed and looked around at his bare-bones cottage. He supposed no one forced him to choose _this _exact destination for his exile, but he decided it was far enough away from the civilization he so despised. And the one who was so civilized that he didn't.

The man noticed his fire was dying quickly. His wand hand flinched.

_You forget yourself! If they detect even the slightest…you will be found out! And it is better this way._

He lumbered across his shack and put on his heavy, wool-lined coat and tall boots. He needed to fetch the firewood that he had stacked outside against the wall of the cottage. Opening the thick door, he was blasted with the cold. He closed his eyes and walked out.

Opening them, he looked to the heavily wooded area just south of his current shelter. A figure was there.

He stepped back quickly into his shack and grabbed the rifle he kept there.

Looking back for the creature, he hesitated. It was no bear or buck.

It was…human…almost.

Still holding the rifle, though the man now knew immediately what the creature was, the two beings began walking to each other. How had one traveled so far?

As soon as they could see the whites of each other's eyes, the centaur spoke with formality and a thick, unidentifiable brogue.

"Severus Snape?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"This is for you, from our brothers of the Scottish Midlands herd." The centaur reached out and handed a letter to Snape, then continued speaking, this time in a resentful manner,"Know this, human. If we here of the Northern Siberian herd did not have so much respect for our brothers and our centaur codes of conduct, we would not allow ourselves to be treated as message mules for your benefit."Snape nodded, not even aware that there had been any herds of centaur outside of Britain.

"Yes, of course."

The centaur too nodded gruffly and began walking away. He called back without turning around,

"I shall return tomorrow at dawn to collect your reply."

Forgetting the firewood, Snape returned to his shack and kicked the snow off his boots, but left them on. He kept staring at the letter. This was the first magical contact he had experienced in four years.

He didn't wonder how he was found, of course. _He _would know.

Snape sat at his small, modest wooden table and opened the letter.

_SS:_

_You have succeeded in making yourself hidden. There has been no suspicion of your demise for coming on four years. You are believed to be dead._

_Thus, I would not be contacting you if I did not have dire information. Our plan is in jeopardy. The moon tells of trouble looming. That which my kind would gain for the success of our plan is far too great for it to fall apart now, surely you know that._

_Your mate, she remembers. Not fully, scraps of memories. Visions, she calls them. I had heard of a fainting spell earlier this month. Then she came to question me, as we had predicted long ago. The first step in her great plan for eternal equality. I was nervous when she came though. She asked me at the end about visions. I fear she will have a memory that will trigger your previous…endeavors back to mind._

_You must return undercover to repeat the charm as before. I remind you-if things had remained on the course they were heading down, she would have perished and my kind would never know the true meaning of freedom._

_The choice, my friend, I leave to you._

_-F_

Snape put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. Just the mere mentioning of her undid him. It brought back the memories he wished he could have had taken from him.

He was stupid to have become involved with her! How had he knowingly walked around day-to-day, spending stolen moments with her? Hadn't he know it was dangerous?

It had taken Firenze's warning, after he had saved him from Nagini's bite, to truly splash the cold water of reality upon his face.

_Four Years Prior_

"_Severus, awaken. I have administered to you Restituendum. Surely you know of it."_

_The bloody man on the floor rose his head weakly, surprised at the figure leaning over him that was holding a strangely beautiful herb in his hand._

"_Firenze? What are you doing here?"_

"_Saving a deserving human against an untimely death, though it goes against my herd's will."_

"_How did you save me? I researched for years anti-venoms to suppress that bloody snake's poison!"_

"_I repeat: I used Restituendum."_

"_But…that is the stuff of legend."_

"_It is for a human. For a centaur, it is a closely guarded restorative. So powerful, it could give a mortal the power to be forever living. That power would disrupt all paths."_

"_Yet you used it on me."_

"_Yes."_

_Snape looked up at the centaur with new found respect. He rose himself fully up, feeling no pain where a fatal wound should have been at his jugular._

"_I'm afraid…there is a 'catch' as the human-children call it, my friend."_

_Snape regarded the centaur with suspicion now. _

"_My herd, as I mentioned, was very against my executive decision to use this batch of Restituendum on yourself. Not only for the reasons I have stated, but for another. You see, we know of your relationship."_

"_My...relationship?" Snape stuttered. This was really beginning to feel like hell._

"_Yes, with one Miss Hermione Granger. Do not try to deny it, Severus, my herd has known since the moon it began."_

"_Well, then, what does your saving me have to do with us?" Snape asked sharply. Grateful though he was, he didn't appreciate that a bunch of bloody ponies had been galloping around with full knowledge of his and Hermione's personal business!_

"_I shall be frank, for we do not have much time. You must go into hiding. The wizarding world must believe you to be dead. This includes Hermione. You must understand; if the current path which she is on manifests itself, my kind will lose all chances of becoming _truly_ equal with wizards."_

"_What? You save me and then ask me to give up the only thing I have to live for?"_

_Firenze responded calmly, "You do not let me finish. Not only will centaurs-and other creatures as well-lose the greatest and brightest hope to have lived, but Severus…you will as well. You see, we centaurs see a vague threat looming in your mate's horizons. We know not what the threat is, but it is fatal. If she continues her present future with you, Severus, she will die. We will lose her, and so will you."_

"_So I have no choice? Either way I lose Hermione?" Severus's voice was shaking with frustration and bitter sadness._

"_Yes. Assuming your understanding, you must remove her memories of the past year. Any memory with you in it, that is. She must carry on with a new future, one that will lead her from harm's way. The harm that your presence in her path brings, Severus. I am sorry."_

Snape shook his head. The hours that followed his meeting with Firenze had been the darkest of his life.

He had gained life, but lost her.

And for her to keep living, she had to lose him.

And now he had to return and repeat?

Fate certainly was a cruel bitch.

* * *

><p><em>Keep reviewing! I love it! <em>


End file.
